


dead, but not quite gone

by Makowo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Horror, Lowercase, Mild Gore, Possession, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makowo/pseuds/Makowo
Summary: there is a world of the deceased makoto must face each daythis is but a moment in it
Relationships: Naegi Makoto & Togami Byakuya
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	dead, but not quite gone

**Author's Note:**

> eyyy what's up :) made this in like a few hours today here yall go  
> also heavily inspired by the haunting of bly manor

the world is crowded with the dead.

the cause is clear. the end of it - the earth, scarred and barren. made so by its own inhabitants. it is a reality makoto must face every day, living and breathing its choking, vicious presence. and he must lead the effort to put it together; or, the motivation to. it is a daunting task, that he knows very, very well. but who else shall scrounge up the willingness to lead those that are so tired with simply fighting the great wish to give up every hour of every day?

it is certainly not his peers, that shudder at the sight of crowds starved of everything they need. it is certainly not future foundation, who stand tall, providing everything but what they say they have set out to offer.

it is certainly not the ghosts that glide and slither and crawl through the streets and halls and tunnels of this earth. they that must be spoken of never, for few are (un)fortunate enough to live amongst the dead.

“Naegi.”

“Hm?” makoto snaps his attention back to kyoko, away from the original catcher of his sights. her expression is firm, but the slightest knit of her brow gives him the clue he needs. she worries.

“The papers, Naegi.” (‘the papers,  _ the papers:)’ _ “I gave them to you yesterday, about the recent bombing in the Taito district?”

he is quiet for a bit, a timeframe he can’t differentiate from seconds or hours, before an answer springs forth. “Oh, um, yeah. I have those papers! They’re…” his gaze draws left, to the door leading out. he doesn’t remember where they are amongst his many things, compiled loosely in a way only he can bother to reca-

‘

“they’re tucked in the right drawer.” he nods to himself, solemn, but measured in his movement. “The one that comes out clean, right on the top of the stack.”

she hums, distracted by her own wandering thoughts, he hopes. “Alright then.” (a gasp ‘ he breathes again) “Thank you.”

he isn’t allowed to reply. ‘you’re welcome, kiri-san.’

she leaves, and he is left to the company of the hordes of the dead.

“Can you…” he turns, facing a mimicry of his own self, gaze ever swirling, “...  _ stop, _ please?”

‘why would i do that?’ it chuckles, unable to keep anything about it stable. ‘i’m helping you.’

makoto can’t help but scoff, turning away from the apparition. “And how? All you’re doing is haunting me.  _ Again.” _

‘and you keep saying that.’ it smiles, all sharp teeth and- well, he can’t say what it holds on its tongue. it’s himself, but not quite. as close to a living ghost as one could get, maybe. ‘you’ll realize it one day. as you’ll one day see your reflection in its entirety.’

he feels its hands rub over his arms, gliding down to lock its fingers with his own. its chest is pressed flush to his back. there is no steady beat, nor even the slight movement of air being taken in. he takes in breaths of polluted air twice as fast for it.

‘tell me, how was this supposed to go?’

“Kyoko wanted some documents she let me borrow for a speech I was writing. I’d lead her to my office, and…”

‘and…?’

“... show them to h-”

there’s something wet on his hands. ‘you’d collapse, get back up, and try to tear your eyes out.’

he accepts it, hesitantly. “James, from the 4th Division. He died watching his friend being dissected in the middle of the street. We found his body that morning, and he followed us.”

‘followed  _ you.’ _ it corrects hastily,  _ eagerly. _ he isn’t even looking at it, but its eyes are so, so bright against the gray floor. ‘every second of his afterlife, he’s living that moment. that anger, that grief, that sorrow. all he wanted to do before he died was stop having to watch it play out.’

the air is far too cold. makoto could have sworn he’d been wearing more than a tattered shirt, but he also could have sworn he’d not been on his knees a moment earlier. “It wouldn’t have… helped him, right?”

there is the thought that haunts makoto so. spirits constantly vye for his body, to tear his loose soul from his body and have a way to scream and cry and feel. they all must live their tragic deaths over and over, stuck with whatever they’d felt in those final moments. and makoto is a beacon to them, the only way he and likely they know that can help them cope. but does it even  _ work? _ does either party benefit, or do they both simply suffer?

‘ah.’ his clothes feel heavy. ‘i need to go rest now. but naegi?’

he attempts to speak, but all that comes out is a gurgled, choked sob.

‘where...  _ are you, anyway?’ _

makoto stiffens, and begins to look around. it’s all blurry, unwilling to cooperate with his vision, somehow. “I’m… I’m at…”

future foundation. but not in the lunch hall, having just talked to kyoko and indulging his own thoughts. he’s-

* * *

“-aegi!”

A sharp voice cuts through the thick fog of his thoughts, greeting him to reality with his legs dangling in the air and two hands keeping him there.

As he fights with his body to get it to cooperate, a few things become apparent very quickly. One is that Makoto is not hanging in the air, but pinned to a wall. That in itself is enough to send another burst of panic through his body, but the fatigue that sets in so hard that it feels difficult to carry the weight of his own skin is another detail of this moment to become obvious. Dreadfully, terribly obvious.

There are tears running down his face, and while they surely came from his own eyes,  _ they are not his own. _

“Naegi.” The voice huffs again, and Makoto looks up before he can get lost in spiraling thoughts (‘again’), green eyes locking with bright, icy blue. They’re narrowed, stern,  _ worried, _ and it strikes an unintentional guilt into his shaking, worn body. “Is… is that…?”

Makoto nods. “Y-yeah.” He chokes, swallowing back bile. “It’s gone.”

He’s slowly slid back down the wall, until both he and Byakuya are sitting on their knees, staring at each other. Trying and failing to soothe themselves from whatever had just possessed Makoto’s body.

“It… was really intense, huh?” He attempts to move his arms, but seethes, the simple attempt to shift his weight making his head pound in protest. “Sorry…”

The taller man scoffs, not letting him go just yet. “Of course you apologize after getting possessed.” They’re both silent, as if waiting for another dead soul to wander along and yank his soul from his body once more. “Who was it this time?”

Makoto hums, and turns his gaze to the left. There, a figure walks down the long, well-lit hall they both happen to be sitting in, long, broken, claw-like appendages jutting out from their limbs. They tear through the old suit they wear, dragging across the floor with a horrid screech only Makoto hears. “I think… Tomimito-san this time…” It hurts to think, damn it.

“They died two months ago.” Byakuya mutters, presumably to himself. It still makes Makoto flinch, the truth of their passing and such quickly progressing monsterification hitting him hard. “How far along?”

“Um, m-maybe-” He hisses again as he attempts to crane his neck and get a better view of the ghost, letting his head fall back gently against the wall. It hurts a bit more, but it’s a bit more rest. “I think, um… six weeks before th-they’re… gone.” He gasps out the final word, shuddering as something hot rolls down the nape of his neck.

“Alright then.” Togami huffs, before gently picking Makoto up, cradling his body close to his chest. “I’ll take you to the medical bay. It didn’t decide to be kind with its host, clearly.”

That comment earns a laugh from Makoto, however weak it may be. They’re never kind with him, and the bloodstains from the spirit repeatedly bashing the back of his head against the wall is, while not the worst aftermath he’s had to face, a testament to his existence as a body with an easily malleable soul.

He shall at least get a night of rest, though. After every moment like this, there is a time of calm, where he has no need to fear any sort of spirit taking his body for its own tragic goal. It shall be the best sleep he could possibly have. Even now it’s vying to take him in, and for now, he greets that darkness with an open mind.

It’s all Makoto can bring himself to look forward to, in a haunted world he must unwillingly see.

**Author's Note:**

> so!!! sry for the silence here lately bjgvjhgv shit's been kinda. yknow :/  
> anyways go follow me on tumblr im very active on there and it's easy to get in touch with me(i also love talking to people so send asks pls)  
> https://mak0w0.tumblr.com/  
> i'll also answer any questions abt this au there! i have. many aus to talk abt there but this is an older one


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